The Sparrow's Flock
by Jacquelin Sparrow
Summary: UPDATED TWO CHAPTERS FOR THE PRICE OF ONE! Jack in his twenties...raising a threeyearold...and dealing with her Scottish mother. Angst,humor, tragedy and humor again.
1. What the Bird Heard from the Bee

**Disclaimer:** Ruthie is mine. Her family is mine. I'm holding them hostage till Jack comes to get them...anything to have him within ten feet of me...  
  
**A/N:** This happens about ten years before the whole thing with Barbossa and about twenty before _Sins of the Father_. You don't have to read _Sins_ to understand this, but I recommend you do, b/c it's a bloody good read. ;)  
  
  
  
"Jack, I'm pregnant."

Jack Sparrow, possibly the most collected man on the seven seas, spun to face the speaker, spinning the ship's wheel violently in the process. Sails turned crazily, causing the vessel to turn and buck as if it would tip over. Jack amended this crisis quickly, clasping the wheel in strong, long-fingered hands, and ordered his crew back to work with a somewhat strained voice.

During all of this, the speaker that had so shocked her captain had stood calmly by, gazing at him quizzically. Now, she stepped to his side; no one would see it amiss. Ruthie and Jack were a well-known item aboard the Pearl. Besides, Jack was the captain. He could do what he liked.

"Care to repeat that, lovey?" Jack said quietly, keeping his face composed.  
  
"I'm pregnant. With child; expecting a bairn," her Scotts accent made her voice harsher than she wanted.

"Mine?" Jack murmured. Ruthie took a step back and stared at him as if he'd stated he was giving up alcohol. Blue-green eyes narrowed; red hair blew briefly into her eyes, relieving him of her deadly glare.

"Of course yours!" she hissed. "What did you think; that Bootstrap and I crawled off into a dark corner somewhere?" Her face was turning crimson with anger; Jack sighed. Once again he'd provoked her Celtic temper, and pregnant women were notoriously moody. The young pirate turned to look into her eyes. He didn't want to ask this next question, but it was a necessity. At least, in the position they happened to be in.

"You're going to keep it? I mean, carry it to term?" His voice held the slightest waver, the tiniest indication of the fear he felt at her answer.

"Aye, you ruddy twit. T'wasn't the bairn's fault is was conceived. More than that, I'd have done with it before now, otherwise."

Jack breathed a private sigh of relief. The last thing he needed was the blood of an unborn child –his unborn child, no less- lingering on his hands.

"Does anyone else know?" Ruthie sighed and rolled her eyes; she was quickly tiring of his interrogation.

"Only Bootstrap. He's the one th' helped me confirm it, having seen the signs in his wife an' all."

"Best thing for now, I think. Savvy?"

The last word was an inquiry, not an order for her silence. He hadn't made her first mate because of her looks, though those would have given her a running start had Jack only wanted a figurehead. No, Ruthie was level-headed, clever, and a wonderful navigator; all in addition to being a paragon of Celtic beauty. Jack reached out and wrapped his arm about his beauty's waist, steering the ship one-handed. She relaxed into him ever so slightly, still keeping an outward veneer of cool thoughts. These were the moments both treasured most, even above the moments of shared passion. Being able to stand together, each with his own thoughts, yet irrevocably one. Suddenly, Jack turned to Ruthie and grinned his shiny grin.

"Y'know, I've always liked the tradition of namin' a boy after his father," he said reflectively. Ruthie regarded him coolly.

"What if it's a lass?"

"We could call her 'Jacquelin,'" the captain slurred, the look on his face for all intents indicating he was serious. Ruthie poked him unmercifully in the ribs.

"Easy on the goods, darling!" Jack exclaimed.

"No!" Ruthie exclaimed back, and captured his clever mouth in a kiss.

  
  
_Sparrow...Spaaahroow. SPARROW!_

_Jack spun around to face the speaker, kohl-lined eyes wide._

_ "Ay?" he said calmly. The speaker smiled, his lips pale, his teeth rotting. _

_"Jack Sparrow," the figure hissed. Jack sighed heavily. _

_"_Captain_, it's _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, savvy? One of these days my reputation will spread..."_

_ "If you live that long," the figure answered. Jack snorted in amusement. _

_"Ye're nary the first, nor the last I'll wager, to lay that threat on me, mate. It's the oldest cliché in the book. Honestly, you'd think you'd come up with something a bit more original..." _

_"Oh, do shut up," the figure said forcefully. Jack opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. He was as good as mute. Once again the figure smiled, and stepped into the light. Jack's heart sped to a run as beads of sweat gathered at his hairline. _

_Captain Samuel Sangre. The most evil man Jack had ever met. And the pirate he and his mates had stolen from. But this was not the Sangre that had nearly keelhauled Jack and his cohorts. This Sangre was a man possessed, driven mad and decaying from within. Sun-brown skin had turned sickly grey; dull grey eyes were totally black, the whites having turned a putrid yellow. His frame was skeletal but wiry, holding fast to some unnatural strength. _

_"You want to know what happened to me," Sangre murmured. The man moved closer to young Jack. _

_"You did this, young captain. You and your Scottish floozy and that leather man... You did this when you boarded my ship, and took what did not belong to you." The man stepped closer again, and Jack could smell the stench of decay. If he could have moved, he would have gagged. _

_"Do you know what my penalty is for such things?" Sangre murmured, then stepped to the side. Behind him was a figure, vivid in color. It was a woman in a green dress, her brilliant red hair drawn artfully away from her face. Her head was bent over something she held in her arms. _

_"Ruthie..." Jack whispered, his speech suddenly restored. The woman looked up, revealing that she was indeed Ruthie the Ruthless. And the object she was holding was a child. Their child. Sangre pulled his pistol from his belt and pointed it directly at the infant's head, which was over her mother's breast. The bullet would kill them both, Jack knew, the thought forming just as Sangre squeezed the trigger... _

Jack sat bolt upright in bed, covered in a cold sweat, tears of fear threatening his eyes. His heart felt as if it would burst from his chest any moment, as only one thought coursed through his mind. _That was a portent, not a dream...Not a dream...the future..._

Then something else occurred to him.

"Sweet muse of the ocean, it's a girl!"

Ruthie, sleeping soundly next to him until now, rolled over groggily. "What?"

"The baby...our child. It's a girl."

"What the ruddy blazes are you talking about?" Ruthie reached out and turned up the side lamp, squinting to see him in the shadowy room. Jack slithered halfway under the blankets and looked his first mate in the eyes.

"I had a dream, just now. Except, I don't think it was a dream, savvy? I think it was what could come in the future..."

"Ye're daft," Ruthie stated simply. Jack gripped her shoulders gently to keep her attention.

"No use statin' the obvious, love. But, just now, I had a dream about Sangre. He-he was changed...like a ghost, but still alive. And you were in the dream as well...you and our whelp. And he..." Jack gulped. "And h-he shot you. Both of you. In cold blood."

Ruthie sat up now, her face serious at the mention of Sangre.

"He's found us again," she whispered. A hand went immediately to her abdomen. She looked up, and for the first time since Jack had known her, she looked afraid.

"I can't stay here," she whispered. "We can't stay here."

Jack's hand covered hers gently. "We'll get you on dry land. Then Bootstrap and I will sail as far away as we can, to lure Sangre away. When it's safe...I'll return for you." Ruthie wrapped her arms around Jack's waist, nestling against his shoulder.

"I want your solemn promise, you raccoon-eyed oaf, not some lick in the wind!" Jack held her to his body, one hand still firmly on her stomach. It was rounded ever so slightly.

"I'm never solemn, and I think the kohl looks quite dashing, but you've got my blood promise, love. You've got my blood within you, and my pledge that I'll come back to see it birthed." For the first time in the all the years he'd known her, Ruthie lay in Jack's arms and wept.  


"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Bootstrap muttered. Jack straightened his greatcoat and looked in the mirror. Ruthie had insisted he do something with his hair, so he'd untangled the worst of the knots and rebraided the beads into place. Why she'd given him a longsuffering look when he'd presented himself to her, he had no idea.

"Sure I'm sure, mate! We can't let the poor lass go back to her house alone...she mightn't strictly be welcome, savvy?"

"_We_ mightn't strictly be welcome, Jack! I know Branwen would welcome Ruthie with open arms; young William is apparently the energetic type. And, my girl could tell yours what to expect," Bill held his hands up, placating; the wedding band on one finger caught a glint of light from the porthole.

"Frankly, I agree wi' ye mate," Jack said very quietly. "But Ruthie doesn't. If her family refuses t' take her back, perhaps we can talk sense to her. But...it's her decision, really. All other opinions are rather superfluous."

"Superfluous," Bill muttered, butting Jack away from the mirror so that he could study his own reflection. "You and your ruddy impressive vocabulary. How do I look?" J

ack studied the man. Bill Turner was a bit taller than his captain, with long brown hair he liked to tie back. He had the sort of look about him that made every move seem charming, and an almost pretty face that attracted women like flies to honey. He was muscular, though, and brown from days at sea. At present, he wore the best clothes he owned; black trews, a new white shirt and a blue vest.

"Ruddy impressive mate!" Jack said, slapping him on the shoulder. "But you'll never outdo me!" The younger man struck a pose that sent Bill into convulsions.

"Nonsense!" came a third voice. "I chose you for your personality, not your good looks!" Ruthie came up and twined her hand in Jack's. She wore a simple, blue linen dress that fell gracefully over her expanding tummy. Her hair was caught up in a loose knot at the nape of her neck. She looked...like a _woman,_ not just a female pirate.

"Come now! You know I'm the more handsome!" Jack teased, and for some women, this held true. Chocolate brown eyes lined with black kohl and shoulder-length jet hair complemented high cheekbones and a ready grin. Add to that his perpetual swagger and penchant for charm, and he was irresistible.

"Ah, well, I'm biased," Ruthie murmured, and looked to the door. She bit her lower lip and gripped Jack's hand, suddenly looking much younger than her twenty-one years.

"No worries, love. We'll be with you the whole time." The frightened look didn't dissipate.

"I know."

  
"My God! Ruthie! Ye've returned to us!" A woman of middle-aged years ran from the door of the tiny cottage to take the younger woman into her arms. She bore a striking resemblance to Ruthie, and well she should. It was her mother that held her now.

"What's gone on with ye, lassie? A bairn on the way?" The woman's eyes flickered to Bill and Jack. "And...a husband we've not met?"

Aisling MacOwen looked so worried, so doubtful at her last statement that Jack gave up his resolve of total honesty. _After all, totally honest men are prone to do something incredibly stupid._

"Aye, madam! And a luckier man never existed to have such a wife!" Jack swept a graceful bow, ignoring Ruthie's stunned look. He took Mrs. MacOwen's hand in both of his.

"Captain Jack Sparrow, at your service, my lady!"

"Oh! A captain! How old are you, lad?"

"Twenty-one, madam. Young for it, I know, but true talent isn't measured by age, savvy?"

"Indeed! And who is your silent friend?"

"William Turner, good lady," Bill said, if a bit stiffly. "A friend of the family."

Aisling smiled grandly, twenty years flying from her features.

"Please, come inside. Ruthie's father should be in from the field soon. I know he'll want to meet you."

_No wonders where Ruthie got her good looks! And charming to boot..._

Jack felt slightly ashamed of deceiving this kind woman. But only slightly. If allowing her to believe that her daughter was happily married to a merchant captain kept Ruthie and their child safe, that was all that mattered. Bill followed behind, his face twisted in a slightly sour look. Branwen had never had any illusions as to who he was or what he did. They loved one another, and their tiny son; everything else was relative. But, Jack was so young yet; perhaps he'd learn.

_Aye, and the King's my uncle.  
_  
  
  
**A/N:** Hope you like! Please review, and I'm open to suggestions about the plot!


	2. Dry Land Brings Dangerous Thoughts

**Disclaimer**: I own Ruthie, her family, and Branwen Turner. I also own Jack's unborn child...Wow. That sounds really weird if you think about it too much...  
  
**A/N:** You will see some of the typical Jack Sparrow in this, but also his serious side. I know, it's really scary, but rum does not flow abundant in this story as it does in my other. Even so, enjoy!

  
  
"...And then, they made me their chief!" Jack gestured wildly as he told his tale, Ruthie's famr younger siblings, three sisters and an infant brother, had greeted the three cautiously when they entered the house. The three girls were arrayed about J than welcome. As it turned out, Ruthie's family was much larger than she had intimated.

Six older brothers, ("Six!" Jack had exclaimed. "Why don't I just dig me ruddy grave now!") and four younger siblings, three sisters and an infant brother, had greeted the three cautiously when they entered the house. The three girls were arrayed about Jack and Ruthie's feet; Aisling had quietly insisted Ruthie stay at her "husband's" side. Bill sat amongst the various brothers, all of whom were glaring at Jack suspiciously. Bill had no doubts that Jack had noted this as well; he also knew that Jack wouldn't worry about it. At all. _Until they murder him in his sleep..._

The youngest of the older boys –Donnell, who was twenty-three- seemed especially wary. He kept casting his eyes between Jack and Bill, glaring hotly whenever Bill caught his gaze. All the others, it seemed, approved of Jack as best they could and showed the proper excitement over Ruthie's pregnancy.

Looking about, Bill wondered why she'd ever left this cozy little home and loving family to join the crew of the _Black Pearl._ _The same reason you left your poor Branwen to care for Will alone._ Bill's mouth twisted sourly as he drained his ale. He hated himself for loving the sea more than his wife... He only hoped that Ruthie and Jack could find a way to be a family at sea, a thing he had never been able to achieve.

"Did you ever fight pi-rates?" the youngest girl, Ellony, asked innocently. All three buccaneers cringed. But Jack, self-possessed as ever, gathered the girl into his lap, and grinned, showing his single gold tooth.

"Why, of course we have! We've fought all manner of black-hearted scallywags, and delivered 'em right to Davey Jones!"

This, of course, launched Jack into a tirade of their exploits against other pirates, altered slightly. Once again, the MacOwen's were transfixed. If Jack had been intent on making a good impression, it seemed he'd done the job _All of it based on a lie, though,_ Bill thought. He sighed. Perhaps Jack could be convinced to let him visit Branwen before they went back to the ship...

"Well, Ruthie, my lass," Robert MacOwen boomed cheerfully, "seems you've done right by yourself. We were right worried ye'd gotten yersel' into some sort o' troubles." He kissed his daughter's forehead. "We were wrong. Good night all; I hope you lot find your beds comfortable."

As Robert MacOwen left the room, Jack saw Ruthie's face fall into a moue of guilt. He laced his fingers through hers, and offered her a grin that usually made her laugh. Now, it only elicited a weak smile.

"I think perhaps we should get to sleep, as well," Ruthie announced, her voice slightly strained. Jack stood, bowed to the family with a flourish, and followed Ruthie to her old bedroom, furbished to house them both. While the MacOwens' attention was fixed on the retiring couple, Bill slipped outside, no longer able to breathe well within the cottage.

He took deep lungfuls of night air, trying to convince himself that all was well. _Although they're not being entirely truthful,_ he told himself, _it's for the best, it'll all work right out._ He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. _Dream another dream, matey._

He nearly yelped as a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. Bill spun, grasping for a pistol that was not there. And, he heartily wished it was when he saw the look on Donnell MacOwen's face.

"I know who you are," Donnell hissed. "I won't say it aloud; too many ears in this house, and I love my sister that much. I know what she's been up to; she tried to take me wi' her, but I wouldna go. I don't care a wit who ye are, or what Ruthie is now. All I care about is that bairn; that garish ponce she calls husband had _better_ not simply leave her here like so much rubbish. He _better_ not."

Donnell started closer to Bill, when the pirate put a hand on the man's chest.

"If you know who and what I am, you had best not threaten me or my mates. Jack and I love Ruthie, just as you do. We brought her here because it's what she wanted. Jack may be somewhat of a ponce" –Bill winced a bit here, saying that- "but he's a good man. He's not throwing your sister overboard, so to speak."

"How can he be a good man? He's a ruddy pirate!"

Bill leaned in very close to Donnell, smiling just a bit.

"So's Ruthie, mate. First mate, in fact, and a bloody good one. Now what do you think of pirates?"

Donnell swallowed his rage admirably and stalked back into the house. Bill remained where he was, thinking very long and very hard about many things.

Jack watched Ruthie as she brushed her hair for bed. It was something she insisted on doing every night, a ritual from her childhood, he suspected. But, here, that simple thing took on a new persona, new meaning. She looked _right _sitting in this comfortable home, heavy with child, and brushing her hair.

Jack caught sight of himself in the mirror, standing behind her. Although he was wearing clean clothes and had forgone the use of kohl before they came, he still looked out of place. Ruthie, dear Ruthie for all her love of the sea, still belonged here. Jack didn't.

The young man turned abruptly away from the mirror, disliking such thoughts and feelings. He'd become a pirate to be free of those things. Such thoughts were dangerous to a man like him. _What sort of a man are you, then?_ he thought, sitting on the bed to remove his boots. _The sort to leave his family? What sort of man is _that_?_ Jack put his head in his hands, willing the thoughts to cease. Suddenly, he had an overwhelming craving for rum.

_I don't have any claim on Ruthie,_ he argued with himself. _She isn't my wife; does her having my child make us a family? Do I want us to be? _The pirate flopped backward onto the bed, listening to Ruthie hum as she braided her long tresses. He reached into a belt pouch, fingering the object there. He'd kept it by him ever since Ruthie had told him she was pregnant, fighting a mental battle that usually ended with far too much alcohol. Jack sighed heavily; there was nothing stronger in this house than ale. Nothing to force his mind away from the decision any longer. And, suddenly, Jack knew what he wanted that decision to be.

Heart pounding in a most unfamiliar fashion, Jack rose and settled his hands on Ruthie's shoulders. She looked up at him in query. He smiled down at her, a sincere smile, for once. Slowly, he pulled the golden chain from his belt pouch and fastened it about her neck. Strung onto the chain was a golden ring set with a perfectly round black pearl. Ruthie's face went pale as she looked at the ring, and she turned to Jack with wild eyes.

The sincere smile crossed his face again. "Will ye make an honest man outta me, love?" he asked quietly. Tears rimmed Ruthie's eyes as she rose to throw her arms about him. He felt her rounded belly press against his abdomen; the child within kicked fiercely.

"Oh, Jack," she whispered, "oh, Jack." He grinned in his usual fashion.

"What's yer answer, then? I didn't quite catch that..."

Ruthie grinned back at him. "Aye, Jack Sparrow, tha's most definitely an 'aye.'"  
  


**A/N:** Do you like my surprises? Do you? So tell me! Please, review! And, **FreakandProud**, thanks for the bit of inspiration. Can you see your idea beginning to grow??


	3. Chapels are for Many Things

**Disclaimer:** I own the wives of our favorite pirate heroes, their families, and Jack Sparrow's cute tike. However, I own neither Jack, nor Bill, nor little William.  
  
**A/N:** Sorry this is so long in coming; it was difficult to figure out what I want to do with this one. I'm not sure if I want to go to Mari's birth and do the rest in another fic, or keep it all in _The Sparrow's Flock_. Whatch y'all think 'bout it?  
  
  
  
"Let me through!" Jack demanded. "Curse your eyes, man, stand aside!"

Bill leaned nonchalantly against the doorframe to the chapel's antechamber. His face was unreadable, almost bored.

"Ye got yerself into this, now ye have to go through wi' it," Bootstrap said, his voice heavy with repeating. "Ye've just got cold feet; happens to better men than you."

Jack, dressed in his finest apparel with his hair clubbed neatly at the nape of his neck, paced the chamber like a caged tiger. His fingers twitched; he wanted rum, and he wanted it now. He needed something –anything!- to calm him.

"I've never felt like this before," he confessed, "I can't...I don't know what to do!"

Bill scratched his clean shaven chin thoughtfully. "That whelp kickin' in yer bride-to-be's belly begs to differ."

He laughed to himself at Jack lanced him with a searing black glare.

"I _meant _I don't...I don't know how to be a husband."

He exhaled heavily; it was as if a great weight had been lifted from his chest. Bill sauntered over to the younger man and looped an arm about his shoulders.

"Tell me, were ye planning on keeping your promises? Being faithful, and caring for Ruthie and the child?"

"That was part of my ingenious plan, yes," Jack muttered.

"And...ye love her?"

"I ruddy asked her to marry me!"

Bill raised an eyebrow. Jack sighed. "Aye. I love her."

"Congratulations, you're a husband! All this ceremony does is show God and the people vows you've already made."

"It's just for show?"

"Aye, and legalities."

Jack grinned, a little more like himself. "Think of me paying attention to legalities! The great Captain Jack Sparrow, trying to obey the law!"

"Hardly, great, my lad," Bootstrap told him. "The last three ships we plundered didn't even know who you were."

"They were just...out of the loop, as it were," Jack said haughtily, gesturing as Bill led him to the chapel altar. "One day my reputation will spread, and I'll be known as _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, greatest..."

He glanced up as he spoke, and Ruthie entered the room. White flowers decorated her flowing hair; a lacy dress clung to her body like a whisper from heaven, billowing over their unborn child.

"Greatest family man in all the ocean," Bill finished. Jack ignored him and reached out a hand to his new bride as the ceremony began.

Donnell paced, fuming. Imagine, a pirate sullying his sister by getting her with child! And another claiming she was a pirate herself! Absurd. Impossible. Ruthie didn't always associate with the most savory characters...but this, this was an outright lie! And now, to find out that that scoundrel hadn't even married her!

Donnell fisted his hands, digging fingernails into soft flesh. She didn't even want to speak with him now, she was so enamored of her new life. His best friend! His childhood playmate, his confidante; the person he loved most in all the world. They had taken her. They had taken her from him. And he would exact his revenge.

"You may kiss the bride!" the old monk said, triumphantly. Jack waggled his eyebrows at his new wife.

"Hmmm...haven't got much experience in this area," he murmured. Ruthie stifled a grin.

"You scabrous git! Come here, already!"

"That's the phrase that put us here..."

"Ruddy painted fool," Ruthie murmured affectionately, submitting to his embrace. The couple's lips touched...

...Just as the chapel doors burst open.

"Pirates!" a Scottish brogue screamed, "the lot o' them! Filthy sacking thieves, fit only for a hempen jig!"

A flame-haired young man stalked into the room, followed closely by members of the British Royal Navy. Bill pronounced an expletive new even to Jack (Jack, of course, followed this with something even better) as the men armed themselves.

"Donnell!" Ruthie shouted breathlessly. "What the devil..."

Donnell took his sister's arms roughly. "I'm saving you, Ruthie. I'm saving you from the filth you've taken up with. Don't worry, we'll raise your child rightly; he never has to know who his father was-"

"Aye, mate," Jack said dangerously, "because his father's an _'is'_ and aims to stay that way, savvy? And I'll thank ye to take yer hands off my wife."

The Navy men had surrounded them by now; muskets armed with gleaming bayonets scrutinized them closely. The kirk had fallen to his knees behind the wedding party; he was praying earnestly in Latin. Donnell still held Ruthie, but seemed to have forgotten her as he and Jack faced off.

Bill held weapons pointed at the officers, attempting a frightening pose. It's difficult to be frightening, however, when you are the only one attempting it. Donnell eyed Jack, madness evident in his eyes.

"Your _wife_? Oh, aye, now that all the world can see why you marry her! But I suppose even that gesture seems a blessing from a man like you."

"He's a better man than ye've shown yourself to be, Donnell," Ruthie said forcefully. "He's cared for me, protected me. He's _loved_ me, Donnell. Not tried to possess me, as our family did. And I gave of myself freely in return."

"Too freely," Donnell's eyes were dangerous now as he looked at his sister. "You've soiled yourself, Ruthie. In so doing, you've soiled our family; there's only one way to rectify that."

The knife that somehow made it to his hand flashed once; there was a shout from many throats, but only a single shot. All faces bore expressions of shock and regret, Bill's most of all as he lowered his pistol. Donnell MacOwen's body fell to the floor. Ruthie fell to her knees next to him, unmindful of the blood quickly pooling on the chapel floor. Bill didn't resist as the Navy men shackled him; Jack was a different story.

"Oh, yes indeed!" he shouted. "You trust the word of a madman, and arrest a young woman's savior and her husband! I can see how the King's Justice is indeed right and good! If ye had brains in yer skulls instead of firmly planted in yer-"

"Stop it!" The voice was grating, grief-filled, but unmistakable. Ruthie got to her feet with some difficulty, her white dress now stained crimson in a wide band about the bottom. Sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating her from behind. She looked like a mercy-angel, stained from her work.

"Let them go."

The officers only stared.

"I said let them go, devil take you! One of those men just save my life, and the other is my life, so for the final bloody time_ release those men!"_

"Lady," a private began, "we witnessed a murder..."

"A murder in which one life took the place of two," the kirk said, standing and enveloping them all in his benevolent gaze. "One of which is totally innocent, and deserves to be born into the world."

The man placed a callused hand on Ruthie's stomach, tilting his tonsured head thoughtfully.

"God created woman for man, that they might create new life and raise it together. Would you sully that perfect creation, especially here, in the eyes of God? What was done here was a tragedy, but no crime. My son," he said to Bill, "you have the right of it; you sought to preserve the joy that was wrought here today. The blessing of God would be on such men that would aid in that cause."

The monk's faded blue eyes were calm, his hands folded gently over his paunch. He merely regarded the chained men, their captors, a bloodstained Ruthie, and the dead man at his feet as if this happened everyday. In that moment, Bill wondered if the peace of Christ didn't exist, after all.

The privates glanced at one another, coming to a silent agreement. They removed Jack and Bill's bonds and began to arrange Donnell's body. The leader of the group addressed the kirk solemnly.

"We'll take the young man to his family. He died defending his sister from ruffians; that's what we'll tell them, for its true. At least, 'twas to him."

The kirk nodded, scribing a cross in the air. "Go in peace, with God's blessing."

The officer turned to the pirate trio. "You'd best leave here, then. Your presence would cause...uncomfortable questions."

"Just what I was thinkin', mate," Jack agreed. "As soon's we can, we'll go."

The young officers left with their grim burden, Ruthie's eyes following their exodus. She shook her head slowly, as if to ensure it was still firmly attached. Jack looped an arm round her waist while Bill clutched her hand. The woman gave a long, shaky sigh and eyed them both in turn.

"He was always dreamin' mountains from molehills," she murmured, "and always protective. Too protective. When I left..." she sighed again. "Something must have snapped round on him."

"'Twasn't yer fault, love," Jack said firmly. "And I won't have ye thinkin' it was. Donnell made his own choices, sound mind or no. But," his mouth quirked. "I don't much like bein' in Bootstrap's debt."

"As if you weren't before!" Bill retorted. "I've saved both your lives, a thousand times again!"

This elicited loud comments that his life had been preserved more than that by the other two. The conversation continued in that vein for some time, until Ruthie was able to get to a bath and some clean clothes. They never discussed where to go next; that choice was rather obvious.  
  


**A/N:** I hope their choice of destination _is_ rather obvious to y'all, as well. If not, I'm sorely disappointed in you, and sentence you to twenty- one viewings of POTC! J/k, you'll find out where they go (if you don't know) next chappie. Thanks, to **Freak**! And to all my other **reviewers**, a great big hug!


	4. One Sparrow's Nest Another's Flight

**Disclaimer**: Branwen, Ruthie, and Mari are mine. The men in this tale belong to Disney. Stupid mouse.  
  
**A/N:** Tiny Will is in this chapter; he has some interaction w/ Jack. However, the kid is only two, and Jack is only there for a day, so I can say that Will would not have remembered him upon their meeting in the smithy...about twenty years later.

  
  
It felt odd, Bill reflected, knocking on one's own door. However, it would have felt stranger simply to walk in. Especially with the boon he was about to ask of his wife. Branwen Turner opened the door with an air of expectation, a dish towel looped over one arm.

"'Twas about time you showed your face here, Rachel," she said, not having caught sight of them. "Little Will's been fretful all morn...Merciful heavens! Bill!" The tiny, fair-haired woman threw herself at Bill, locking him in a smothering embrace. Bill returned the gesture happily, burying his nose in his wife's hair, murmuring apologies for his long absence. Ruthie and Jack, both grinning widely, cast their eyes elsewhere.

"Jack Sparrow!" Branwen accused, "where've you been keeping my good husband?" Pewter eyes snapped with mock anger, while a smile threatened her lips.

"And you, Ruthie MacOwen...my goodness!" Branwen approached the other woman and spread her small hands over the stretched skin. She leaned toward Ruthie conspiratorially.

"I warned you about piratical charms, my dear," she whispered loudly. "They speak with honeyed tongues, and before you know it, you're..."

"In a chapel," Bill interrupted, blushing. "You see, love?"

"He's married you, then?" Branwen said in surprise.

"You doubt my husbandly skills, do you, Madam Turner?" Jack said, putting on a false air of offense. He was rewarded with a trio of amused stares.

"Not many husbands wear their wives' eye-paint," Ruthie told him gently. Jack put on a pout.

"It's _kohl_, and it keeps off the glare."

Branwen laughed aloud at their banter, a ringing bell-like sound. "I won't keep us all chatting in the sun any longer, then! Come inside, the lot of you, I want to hear the events that brought you to the Turner doorstep."

"Papa!" Little William threw himself at Bill in the way only two-year-olds have. Bill hoisted his son into the air and swung him around, Will giggling in delight. Suddenly, the boy caught sight of his father's friends.

"Papa, who'er they?" he whispered, pointing with a tiny finger. Bill put him down.

"Friends of mine, son. From my ship."

"_My_ ship, mate," Jack corrected, settling on one knee. He was as close to eye-level with Will as he was likely to get. "_Captain_ Jack Sparrow, my lad, that's who I am! And this vision of loveliness," he held out a hand to Ruthie, "is Ruthie the Ruthless, my first mate. And my wife."

"Hello, young Will," Ruthie said kindly. "You're father speaks of you often."

Will's brown eyes widened as he scrutinized the pirate couple. They were like nothing he'd ever seen! The boy came from behind his father's knees, a finger placed thoughtfully in his mouth. He stared up at Ruthie.

"Are you gonna have a baby?" he asked, awed. Ruthie smiled.

"Indeed, I am. Oh! Give me your hand!" She clasped the tiny fingers and placed them on her belly. Will's eyes grew very round.

"What's that?"

"That's our son sayin' hullo," Jack explained. Ruthie squeezed his hand.

"Or daughter," she said insistently. "We don't want another rogue like you about!" Jack grinned impishly. Will watched the exchange curiously, then turned to grin toothily at his parents.

"I like 'em!" he stated, and ran off to whatever adventures he'd been about before.

"You've been approved," Branwen said, watching the boy go. "That's a rare thing; you should be flattered. Now," she continued briskly, "I suspect you're not all here for a friendly visit." She eyed her husband. "I'll make afternoon tea while all of you explain precisely what trouble I'm getting into."

"So...what you're saying is, you wish for Ruthie to stay here, at least until the baby is born? And probably for a time after, as well?"

The four of them sat at the back of the lilac-covered cottage by the sea, watching tiny William chase seagulls. Or, rather, try to. The gulls would watch him warily until he came to close, then hop away.

"That's about the size of it," Jack agreed. Ruthie gazed at the sea, her mind clearly somewhere else.

"I'd be delighted to have the company, just as I said before!" Branwen announced. Bill kissed her hand.

"Have I told you lately that you're a gem? A treasure unworthy of a sea- dog like me."

Branwen drew him close for a real kiss. "How long are you staying?" she asked quietly.

Bill cast a glance at Jack before answering. "A day. Maybe two."

The woman's face fell. "Oh."

"It's best if Bill and I go on the lam, just now, savvy?" Jack told her. "We don't know if the MacOwens will...place the blame in the correct location."

Branwen shook her head. "Terrible business, that. Your own brother! Well, my dear, I can promise you'll be safe here. Though, being married to Jack, I can't promise you safety from madness..."

"Och, no worries, lass!" Ruthie said, back from her reverie, "I have a penchant for daft men. Clearly."

William ran up to them then, arms full of dripping seashells. He displayed them proudly, holding up his favorite catch, a starfish. Shyly, he laid it on Ruthie's stomach, regarding her with hopeful eyes.

"It's for her," he whispered. "When she's born."

"Ye think it's a lass, then, little one?" Ruthie asked. Will nodded emphatically.

"Uh-huh."

"How d'ye figure that?" Jack asked. Will clambered into his father's lap, sitting up importantly.

"The sea tells me things, sometimes," he told them. "So I asked it what the baby would be." He looked around sadly as the adults laughed. Didn't they believe him?

"Ah, you could be right, at that, my boy!" Bill murmured. "The sea tells us all things, from time to time. Ye've just got to know how to listen."

The sun rose over the ocean, illuminating a small spit of beach, and the four figures occupying it. They stood grouped together as a dinghy rowed in from the _Pearl._

"Must you leave so soon?" Branwen whispered, her arms locked about Bill's waist. Will still slept in the cottage; he and Bill had fared-well the night before. Bill closed his eyes, stroking her flaxen hair.

"Aye, we must. But, remember this my dear, the sooner we leave..."

"The sooner you'll return. Yes, I know."

Jack stood with his arm about Ruthie's shoulders, she leaning into him slightly. It was a posture they'd oft assumed on the Pearl's deck, the one they were most comfortable with, and most cherished. Ruthie rested her head against Jack's temple as he placed a hand on her belly. Their child kicked out, seeming to squirm closer to him. Ruthie put a hand over his; the one bearing his ring.

"Ye'd better be back before she comes," she said viciously.

"She?"

"Aye; _she_, until the bairn tells us different. But, Jack," Ruthie turned to pin him with her blue-green gaze. "Ye'd better be here to greet her."

Jack smiled a bit. "And if I'm not?"

Ruthie's eyes narrowed as she grinned wickedly. "Then this'll be the last bairn ye sire, savvy?"

"Are you threatening me, Mrs. Sparrow?"

"Only a little."

Jack kissed her then, a kiss like the one that had spurred them to conceive their unborn child. A light cough interrupted their discourse.

"Sir?" The dinghy had landed, and a gangly boy with a wooden eye eyed the pirates nervously.

"Aye, Raggetti, two to board."

Reluctantly, Bootstrap Bill and Captain Jack Sparrow released their wives and clambered into the boat. Branwen and Ruthie stood side by side, watching as they sailed into the distance.

"Will they really return?" Ruthie asked. Branwen looped an arm through hers, smiling brightly.

"Of course they will! As soon as good Neptune gives them leave, they'll be here, clambering for our attentions."

"I miss him."

"Jack?"

"Aye, of course. But just then, I meant, I miss Neptune."

Branwen nodded sympathetically, although she herself had never understood a sailor's passion for the sea. She felt badly for this woman who, in one day, had lost two lovely treasures.

A Sparrow, and a _Pearl_.

**A/N:** Okay, as in my other fic, things will pick up speed a bit...I promise!! Ya got ta set the scene, though, y'know? Theatre chaps will understand this. Please review! 


	5. Familiar Faces and Contemplations

**Disclaimer:** I own everything you don't recognize from the movie.  
  
**A/N:** This chapter is rather short –my abject apologies for that. For those of you who are following my other tale as well, things are going to begin to parallel. And, anything that isn't explained in this fic is likely explained in _Sins_. Enjoy!  
  


The man was older than Jack –older, even, than Bill- and his eyes were small and cold. His grin was friendly, his voice jovial...but there was something to him that made Jack's skin crawl. He was most definitely no Ruthie, although his accent showed him to be Scots. Jack leaned back in his chair easily, propping his feet on the table. Bill stood somewhere behind him, no doubt eyeing up the new arrival as well.

"So, Master Barbossa. Ye want to join my crew," Jack began, taking an apple from a bowl of fruit. "What's yer reasoning for that course of action?"

The man smiled again, causing Jack's stomach to flip. He felt Ruthie's loss acutely now. Had she been here, he never would have even listened to this devil-eyed scrap of sea-salt. The man had simply walked aboard the _Black Pearl_ as if he owned her; not a familiarity Jack appreciated from strangers.

"I've heard tell o' yer need for a first mate," Barbossa said smoothly. "I come to see if I might fill that position."

"It's been filled," Bootstrap said strongly. Even if Jack hadn't moved Bill up the sailor's ladder, the man would have said something. Jack could hear it in his voice. So. Bootstrap didn't trust this character, either.

"He's right, I'm afraid," Jack confirmed. "We've no need of a first mate at present. However, we could use an extra man at the sails and rigging."

Barbossa's face clouded over for a moment. _Power-hungry,_ Jack thought,_ I've got to watch this one._ However, the thunderheads cleared quickly, and the jovial Scot returned.

"I'd be honored for a position aboard yer vessel, sir."

"I don't trust him, Jack!" Bill exclaimed. Jack tipped his head back for a sip of rum. The comforting burn of alcohol rolled down his throat to churn in his stomach.

"Nor do I. But this Barbossa is a man I'd rather have very close to me, rather than far enough away to fire cannon from another ship, savvy? We'll keep a sharp eye, mate. If you see anything amiss, I give you my standing permission to introduce him to the yardarm, ay?"

As he spoke, Jack rose and looped an arm around Bootstraps shoulders. Bill shrugged the younger man off, and showed Jack the boot he'd been mending.

"Is that a patch sufficient to please Your Grace?" he asked, the change in subject deliberate. Jack inspected the leatherwork, which was flawless. Bootstrap had always been good with his hands, and been named for his skill.

"Stitching's off a bit, mate," Jack drawled, unfolding a long finger to point out the nonexistent flaw. He frowned and lifted the boot from Bill's hands.

"Isn't this a bit small for ye?" he asked. Bill snatched it away, mouth turned slightly sour.

"It's not for me, Jack. It's for young Will. We'll have to head back to England soon, especially if you want to be there when Ruthie goes into labor."

Jack swallowed more rum in place of an answer. The truth was, he was of two minds about returning to England. On one hand, he wanted to see his wife very badly; the months without Ruthie on board had seen him jovial only with rum in hand. However, going back to England would mean discussing things that Jack didn't necessarily want to discuss. Namely, what was to happen after Ruthie had the child.

Jack, of course, wanted her to wean the babe, leave it in Branwen's capable hands, and return to the Black Pearl. But, what if Ruthie insisted on bringing it aboard? Or, worse, staying on land to care for the child. What if she wanted him to stay with her? Ruthie was persuasive...but would she insist that he give up the sea? Surely not!

The captain stretched and yawned as if he'd only been contemplating sleep. The yawn revealed two more gold teeth, obtained after an... intense physical engagement in Tortuga. Jack tested out the phrase in his mind. It wasn't perfect, but it sounded better than saying he'd been in a brawl. He rolled his eyes toward Bill, and raised his bottle.

"To England, mate! We've ladies a-waitin' for us!"


	6. The Sparrowling

**Disclaimer:** As in my other POTC fics; I own Mari. I own Ruthie, and Branwen. I would _like_ to own Jack and Bootstrap; but I would also _like _to be able to fly. Neither thing is likely to happen.

**A/N:** This is short, but I felt a mutiny coming on, so I'm hoping this will assuage any feelings of ill-will. I've been out of state for a week w/ no comp access (the horror!!) and just now got the chance to update all my fics. Things will begin to parallel soon, so all of you may want to read both POTC non-one-shots. That's not a shameless self-plug, or anything. ;)

"Jack! Arse on the seat, lad!" Bill barked. Under normal circumstances, Bill speaking thus to his captain would have made Jack intensely angry. Today, however was different. Much different.

A scream came from behind the closed bedroom door. Jack leapt back to his feet, prevented from barging in the room only by Bill's hand in his belt.

"Arse on the seat," Bill repeated, enunciating each word very slowly. Jack looked at him wild-eyed.

"Curse your eyes man, what if she needs me? Am I to stay out here, helpless and listen to that?"

Ruthie scream was followed by Branwen's calm voice urging her on. Young William had been bundled off to a neighbor's the night before.

"Yes," Bill answered his friend simply. "Trust me, Jack, she doesn't want ye in there. Ye'd only get in the way; this is one situation ye just have to keep yer nimble fingers out of. Now, sit!"

"_JACK YOU LOWLY SCABROUS GIT_!" came a shriek from inside. "_YOU UNWORTHY PAINTED SEA-DOG! YOU ARE NEVER TOUCHING ME AGAIN, **DO YOU HEAR ME, JACK?**_"

Fear was not an expression that Jack often wore, but he did now as he sank to his seat next to Bill. However, moments later, he was up again, pacing.

"What if it doesn't like me?" he asked suddenly. His eyes looked as if they might roll from his head. "What if it _hates _me? What if I'm not a good father? What if-"

"What if I kill ye so that ye shut yer useless mouth?" Bill suggested cheerfully. "You're tiresomely charming, Jack. The child will love you. As for the fatherhood bit...no one can tell till they've actually gone through it."

"What did you do when young Will was born?" Jack asked, sitting down tensely.

Bootstrap settled back, smiling. "I acted worse'n you. Mostly because I'd no one to wait wi' me. No one that knew about these things, leastways. But, when I finally went to her and held my son for the first time...there's nothing like it, Jack. Nothing in the world like holding a piece of yourself in your arms. They come out these tiny, scarlet, wailing, wrinkled things. But, if it's yourn, it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. Ah, Jack, ye'll be a fine father. Highly overprotective, but fine, all the same."

"Overprotective?" Jack thought about this for a moment. "Me? Never! A Sparrow's got to have room to stretch its wings!" He spread his arms and flapped them grandly. Bill laughed.

"What if it's a girl, lad?"

"I'll kill any man that looks at her crosswise," Jack said blithely.

"Overprotective. Just as I thought."

Jack opened his mouth to retort when a feeble cry was heard from the bedroom. Jack rose and dashed inside before anyone could stop him.

Ruthie lay on the bed, hair sticking damply to her forehead, looking heartily tired. Branwen bent over her, smiling, and handed her a linen bundle that emitted gurgling sounds. Ruthie noticed Jack and grinned.

"Come here, Captain Sparrow, and greet your little chick."

Suddenly nervous, Jack strode to the bed and looked down at the little red face. Wisps of red-brown hair clung to the baby's scalp; the eyes were a very dark blue, a sign that they would likely change to brown. Ruthie held the child up.

"Go on, hold your daughter."

"What if I drop her?"

"Would you drop your sword? Just support her head in the crook of your arm. Good, just like that."

Ruthie sank back into the pillows, watching Jack watch their lass. He clutched the warm little bundle gently, a confusion of emotion rising within him. He was fearful and nervous, and deliriously happy, all at once. The child stared back at him as if she knew him, and worked a tiny hand from her swaddling to grip one of Jack's long fingers.

Suddenly, he wanted to weep.

"What have you named her," he asked softly. He settled on the edge of the bed, so that they could both see their daughter.

"Mari. It's a form of 'Mara' which means 'sea.' I thought it appropriate, seeing her heritage."

"Mari," Jack whispered, rolling the name around on his tongue. "Welcome to the world, Mari. I'm Jack. I'm your father."

**A/N:** Does anyone else get a _Star Wars _flashback at the end of this? Please tell me I'm not imagining things. Oh, and if you're starving for some good parody, read _Beautiful Crossovers and Mouth to Mouth _by **Samluvsbanana**. It's a POTC/LOTR crossover, and it's very funny, if I do say so. And that's not just b/c I'm the co-writer, either, ppl. ;P


	7. Trouble in Paradise

**Disclaimer:** Life is unfair.

**A/N:** Okay, all, not a whole lot of mush for a while. Conspiracy and adventure, how does that strike your fancy?

"Well, what d'ye think?" Bill asked. He stood with Jack at the ocean's edge, the two of them gazing across the water. Jack still held Mari, as if afraid to put her down. Ruthie slept in the cottage under Branwen's ministrations. Jack looked down at his precious burden and smiled a little.

"She's the greatest treasure I'll ever have, Bill. No matter what plunder we may gain in the future, nothing can compare to this."

Jack shifted the infant slightly so that Bill could see her. Her little brow furrowed a bit as she yawned pinkly. Bill stroked the tiny cheek gently.

"'Twasn't a mistake to return, then?"

"'T'would have been one not to, mate."

"What'll ye do now?"

Jack pursed his lips and gazed out at the horizon. It wasn't a question he particularly wanted to answer, but he knew he'd have to. Best to practice his response on Bill, before Ruthie caught him off guard.

"Return to the _Pearl_. She was my first lover, mate. Being faithless to her would create a wound that nothing could heal."

Bill nodded. Jack never spoke thus to any but himself, for Bill was the only man that knew Jack's feelings as his own.

"It'll be hard to leave 'em," Bill said quietly. Now Jack nodded.

"Aye, mate. But, I suspect it'll be harder to return, once we've re-tasted the freedom of the sea."

Jack lifted his child so that she was turned toward the ocean, so that her wide, childish eyes could take in the sea.

"Ye see that, my lass? Ye see what ol' Jack is gonna show ye someday? That, my girl, that's freedom."

Mari gurgled and waved a tiny hand, as if she were trying to grasp the horizon.

"She's the image of ye, Jack," Bill commented. "Always reaching for the impossible."

"The _improbable_, perhaps. Nothing's impossible, savvy?"

As the sun set, they went back inside. Young Will had returned home that morning, bouncing with excitement over the new child. Already he was as watchful over her as a big brother; indeed, he considered her his own kin. Jack placed Mari in her cradle, and Will was right there next to her, watching her watch him. The adults had already discovered that the two could spend hours in silence this way, and so left them to it.

"Ye're leavin'." It was a statement, not a question. Ruthie sat in a chair near the cradle, and had seen Jack's blank look as he lay Mari into it. Her voice was soft and steady with anger.

"Aye," Jack replied, just as softly. Ruthie looked away from him, face taut. The evening was spent in silence.

"What would ye like me to do?" Jack hissed angrily. "Stay here and _farm_?" The last word was spat into the space between them. They stood in Ruthie's bedroom, two figures stiff with frustrated rage.

"No," Ruthie spat back. "I'd like ye to stay a bit _longer_. To, perhaps, have a part in yer child's life. And in mine! Five months ye've been away at sea, Jack, _five months_ ye're gone, with nary a word! And when ye do return? Ye stay long enough to see yer child whelped, and go haring off again!"

"Would you have me stay, and risk a mutiny on the _Pearl?_"

"Those men love you, Jack," Ruthie said bitterly. "There isna a one o' them that wouldna break the code to save yer worthless arse."

Barbossa's face floated unbidden to Jack's mind; his stomach tightened.

"Things have changed a bit since ye left," Jack said, more calmly. "New faces, new loyalties. A pirate's position at sea is precarious."

"But a privateer's isn't." Ruthie turned to Jack and cupped his face in her hands.

"Ye could get a letter of the Marque. Ye're a worthy seaman, good at yer trade!"

"But a highly _unworthy _man in the eyes of the Crown! I can just see it now, love. I ask for the piece of parchment, and they hand me a bit of rope instead. Wouldn't that be a lovely tale to tell the child?"

"She's got a name, Jack. Ye should know it, though she'll know little enough of yours."

Jack gripped Ruthie's shoulders, kohl-lined eyes narrowed.

"Have you a solution? For, if you do, I'd very much love to hear it. The plunder we catch at sea is the reason the three –four- of you can maintain the cottage here." He released her, rubbing his eyes with long fingers. Kohl smeared into a devilish looking mask.

"The only solution I can see," he continued, "is if good ol' Bill and I can find a treasure large enough so that we can retire at our leisure. Should that happen, you'll be the first to know, my dear, I promise."

Jack left the room then, prevented from slamming the door only because he knew the sound would wake the children. Ruthie looked after him, indignation rising in her heart.

_He can't know_, she thought_, he can't know how much I long to go with him...How much I wish to be at sea again._ She looked to the cradle at the fireside and, for an instant, considered doing it. It wouldn't be hard; all she would have to do was follow Jack and Bill, and jump in the dinghy after them. Mari, she was certain, would be well taken care of...

"No," she said aloud. "Poseidon is my lover no more." She crossed to the cradle and picked Mari up. The child woke with a startled cry, escalating as she felt her mother's tears on her little face.

"I won't leave ye," Ruthie whispered. "He may be on the other side of the world, my bairn, but I, _I_ will ne'er abandon ye."

Jack and Bill rowed the dinghy silently to the _Black Pearl's _side.

"Good to have you back, Captain," Ragetti said. Jack passed him without a word. Bootstrap and the captain spent the remainder of the night in his stateroom, with many, many bottles of rum.

"What be the Captain's trouble?" Barbossa asked Ragetti as the two swabbed the deck.

"Lady troubles, I expect," Ragetti said mournfully.

"Lady troubles, eh? What sort o' troubles those be?"

"Bootstrap and the Captain both have wives on the mainland," Ragetti explained. "Children, too, I imagine. Captain Sparrow's family gives him a heap of sorrows."

"Indeed?" Barbossa said interestedly. "Well, well. Doesn't have as much attention for his crew as he used, I suppose."

Ragetti set his good eye on his companion. "What d'ye mean?"

"Well, when a man's got family, they's what mostly fill his thoughts. He hasn't got so much time for thinkin' of other things. Like booty...and crew."

"Are you sayin' the Captain doesn't care about us no more?" Ragetti asked, bristling.

"No, no!" Barbossa countered quickly. "All's I'm sayin' is that...perhaps he's got more on his plate than he's used to, that's all. It's hard to find a balance between family and crew...sometimes, one of those things loses...precedence, in a man's mind."

Ragetti frowned a bit and wandered away, muttering to himself. Barbossa watched after him, smiling. The seed was planted.

**A/N:** Nope, I didn't forget about Barbossa...he has a lot to do in the coming chapters. Please review!


	8. Seeds are Sown, Letters Writ

**Disclaimer:** Some of it's mine. Some isn't. You be the judge! ;)

**A/N:** Abject apologies are in order for my long delay in updating everything. I'm getting ready for my freshman year of college, and remembering everything (let alone keeping a plot straight) is a total drain of the senses. I hope you like the way this is heading. If not, don't be afraid to tell me. Nicely. :)

The next three years passed much like this:

The _Black Pearl _sailed under the command of Captain Sparrow and his first mate, Bootstrap Bill Turner. They continued the path of piracy, and that rather successfully. After particularly successful raids, the crew was rewarded with a shore leave at, of course, Totuga. (This, of course, depended on their proximity to the island. If the distance was too great, the crew had to settle for lands where the bouquet was less proliferous.)

Inevitably, upon their entry to the _Faithful Bride_, the innkeep would swoop down upon Jack and Bill to thrust their wives' letters into their fingers and ply them with as much rum as they would take. On nights when the letters were cheerful, the rum was not much needed and imbibed in only a perfunctory manner. On nights when the letters held bad tidings, the rum flowed abundant.

For Jack, the latter situation was fairly common.

Often, Ruthie's letters held subtle hints that Jack should visit. More often, she simply railed at him for his infrequent appearances. During times like these, Bill drank very little, watching Jack's dark eyes scan the letters again and again, listening to him rail, and carrying him back to the _Pearl_ when he invariably drank himself to oblivion.

And then, there came a night when the rum came in a veritable tidal wave.

Bill watched as Jack's jaw tensed while he read the bit of parchment, saw his eyes scan the last line and saw the long, dexterous fingers crumple the sheet into a ball. Jack said nothing, only ordered more rum. And more rum. And more rum. Jack said nothing, thus, neither did Bill. Branwen had not written him this time, so William Sr. could not even pretend to ignore his friend's smoldering ire.

When Jack finally slumped over on the table, Bill picked up the wrinkled paper ball and smoothed it in front of him.

_Jack,_ it read:

_I have asked you before to come home, nay demanded it. And you have not heeded my pleas. No matter how much I tell you of our daughter, no matter how much I say _I_ wish you to be here –and I do! Oh, Jack, how I do- you have not come. You have not even replied to my missives. But I think, dear Captain Sparrow, you will reply to this._

_I am dying._

Bill's heart sank even as his throat filled with bile. Who knew how long ago Ruthie had written this, how long the innkeep had waited to place it in Jack's hands? For all they knew she could be...

Bill shook himself and read on.

_It is a fever, one which, of the whole household, I alone have contracted. The doctor says that my condition is worsened by depression and stress. Oh, Jack, do you know what he is saying? You are my cure, Jack. My only cure. Our daughter is three now, a beautiful strong girl. She and Will are closer than siblings, and she asks after you daily. Even she knows how we need you, my love._

My love? Never before had Bill heard any such endearment from Ruthie toward Jack. She must be ill, indeed.

_I do not ask you to stay. I could not ask you to do such a thing. But, I beg of you, Jack, come for only a little while. See me into the next world, if you will not rescue me from it. I have never pleaded with you like this before, never thought I would be driven to such desperation. But I can bear it no longer. I am a woman, Jack. No matter that much of my life was lived as a hardened pirate; I am also a woman, and have always been so. I need my husband to come home to me._

_If you do this, if you do this one time, never again will I ask you ashore._

_Your loving wife and daughter,_

_Ruthie and Mari_

Bill saw the childish scrawl of the second signature and realized that Mari must have signed it herself. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, considering all the things this letter would mean to Jack. Carefully, he folded the letter with neat strokes and placed it in his pocket.

Then, as so many times before, Bill hoisted Jack to his shoulder and carried the _Pearl's _captain back to her.

"Captain's awful distracted, these days," Barbossa said quietly. Twigg looked up from his sail patching inquisitively.

"What d'ye mean by that?"

Barbossa shrugged and continued twining rope.

"The fire in his belly seems gone, that's all."

"Ye mean...he's givin' up on piratin'?"

"No, no!" Barbossa held up his hands, placating. "It's just...Ah, well. Have ye seen any new swag the last couple o' weeks?"

Twigg shook his head, dreadlocks swaying. Barbossa leaned toward the man conspiratorially.

"I just...I don't think Captain Sparrow's as strong as he once was, ay? All material wears through in time...that includes captain material."

Twigg's eyes narrowed as he considered this.

"I even hear," Barbossa said very quietly, "that we're returnin' to England soon, so that the captain can bring his whelp aboard."

Now, Twigg scowled. He was not particularly fond of children, and it was well know that Jack's child was a girl. Women –even miniature ones- were terrible bad luck aboard ships. Besides, everyone knew children made a man soft.

"Th' captain's no fool," Twigg said firmly. "He knows a whelp –even his own- has no place on a pirate vessel."

As if on cue, Bootstrap turned the corner and glared at the two men.

"Make ready to sail; we head for the coast of England, captain's orders."

As Bootstrap walked away, Barbossa gave Twigg a significant look, and left the dark man to his thoughts.

Bootstrap made way back to Jack's cabin, where the man still lay in a drunken stupor. He knew Jack would be angry when he woke; angry to find that Bill had used the captain's name to turn sail toward England. But he'd forgive, Bill was certain, as soon as he lay eyes on his wife and daughter once more.

"Please, God, let him forgive," Bootstrap murmured. "And let Ruthie be alive when we get there...."


	9. Sparrows Fly in Flocks

**Disclaimer:** Mari is is too, but not for much longer. All else...agh. You know I don't own it or I'd been on the sea instead of writing about it.

**A/N:** I apologize for taking so long to get this out, but I'm at college, and college is hard. At least, for ppl like me who procrastinated in highschool and still managed to graduate 11th in their class. Lol.

Ruthie was alive when they arrived. In fact, from a distance, she looked quite well. Jack's heart seized up in his chest.

_She's fallen to lying to get me here...she's never lied to me before. _Suddenly, it struck him how cruel he'd been, leaving her ashore without so much as a word, a visit. He tumbled out of the dinghy before Bootstrap even docked it, splashing into the ocean and striding purposefully up the beach. Ruthie made no move toward him; she only watched him advance with a look of disbelief as if she looked upon a ghost.

However, when Jack reached her side, he saw that it was not Ruthie who looked upon a ghost, but he himself. The strong, proud pirate lass was gone, replaced by a wraith-thin, pale shadow of the woman he married. Dark circles rounded her eyes, nearly as dark as the kohl that lined his own. Tears leaked from those eyes now, eyes that had likely wept too often in the last three years.

Wept for her brother, for the sea, and most of all, for Jack.

He took her in his arms, silently. She crumpled against him, like a silk doll. Neither spoke; Jack knew no words could ever mend this hurt, and Ruthie wished not to lie by telling him all would be well. A tiny gasp caught Jack's attention.

A minute personage with flaming hair stood just behind Ruthie, one finger caught in her mouth, the other hand clasping an ivory whistle to her chest. Jack knew that whistle. He had carved it himself, for Mari's second birthday. But, he would have known her without the tell-tale object, for the great, round eyes that pierced him now were his own.

It was disconcerting, really, having someone stare at you with your own eyes. Especially when they belonged to a tiny person who should not have so much wisdom as seemed to be stored in those dark pools. Jack pulled away from Ruthie gently and knelt on one knee before the child.

"Do you know who I am, my lass?" he said softly. The girl came forward, pulling her finger from her mouth. Slowly, she pulled up the right sleeve of Jack's shirt, revealing the sparrow tattoo that Ruthie had put there...years ago.

"Captain Jack Sparrow," the girl whispered. Jack nodded.

"Aye, yer dad, savvy?"

"Aye. Jack," Mari replied. It was both a blow and a relief that she refused to call him by any title of paternity. He might have liked being called "da" or "papa." Then again, he might not. _'S not likely I'll ever know whether I do or not_, he thought, with a twinge of sadness. The girl hadn't even offered to hug him.

"Mari!" a childish voice called. A little boy with fly-away dark curls shot around the side of the house. He stopped to give Jack a startled look, then refocused his attention on his small friend.

"I found the best climbing tree!" young Will exclaimed. "There's losta birds' nests...and some of 'em got eggs!"

"Mummy? Can I go?" Mari asked, without a second look at Jack. Ruthie smiled wanly.

"Go on, sweet. But, be careful. And don't disturb those eggs!"

Mari dashed away with Will, their hands clasped in a show of childish affection. It was only then that Jack realized that Mari was wearing tiny breeches instead of skirts. That made him smile. _Like mother like daughter. _

"She's beautiful," he said quietly. Ruthie looked at him with sad eyes.

"She always has been. Jack...we need to talk, you and I. Come." And she offered him her hand. He took it, and felt the hardness of her wedding band, still in place, a symbol of their travesty of a marriage. She led him to a secluded spot, beneath a willow tree. She sat carefully, with Jack beside her. She still had his hand.

"I'm dying, Jack," Ruthie rasped. Jack opened his mouth to speak, but she shushed him.

"Don't say me nay! I know I'm dying, and it's from a broken heart as well as the winter fever. I thought spring might heal me...but it dinna. I haven't long left on this earth, Jack. Before I leave it, I want two things from you."

Jack looked at her, frowning in concern and confusion. He remained silent, though. He knew, as well as Ruthie did, that whatever she asked, he would give.

"First," she said quietly, "I want a burial at sea."

Jack nodded. "You'll have it, then," he whispered.

"Second," Ruthie went on, breathing laboriously, "I want...I want our child to know at least one of its parents. Jack, I want your solemn oath that that girl won't be left a-land, hopeless, as I was!"

"You never-"

"I did! I told you Jack, over and again, in my letters! I pleaded for you to come back for us! I won't have Mari grow an orphan!"

Ruthie balled her hands into fists, and struck him on the chest as hard as her strength would allow. Jack knew, then, just how weak she truly was. Once, blows with all her strength would have (and had) left angry bruises. Now, he barely felt them. Easily, he caught her wrists.

"Calm yerself," he snapped, harsh with his own guilt. To his utter shock, she wrenched her wrists away and curled into him. She didn't weep; it seemed she was out of tears. Gently, Jack gathered her in his arms, stood, and carried her back to the house.

"I'm worried for her, Bill," Branwen said quietly. Bill sipped his ale, knowing that Branwen wasn't talking about Ruthie. All knew (even the children in some small way) what was to happen to her; Jack and Ruthie most of all. The two had been shut up in Ruthie's bedroom for hours, now. Whether they were making love, or making last amends, Bootstrap didn't know. Wasn't much difference between the two, for that couple, at any rate. No, Branwen didn't speak of Ruthie.

She feared for young Mari.

Branwen had intimated quite firmly that she would be more than happy to care for Mari ashore. But Jack seemed determined to take her aboard the _Pearl_. Both Turners had attempted to convince him that this was foolishness...but he would here none of it. Jack was determined to keep his promise to Ruthie; he was young, and inexperienced when it came to small children. Jack firmly believed he was doing the right thing. Bill leaned forward and gripped his wife's hand.

"I'll watch out for her. No worries," he murmured, before placing a soft kiss on her lips. At that moment, Jack emerged silently from Ruthie's bedroom. His eyes were cold, emotionless. Bill felt his stomach sink as tears began to course down Branwen's face.

Ruthie MacOwen-Sparrow, first mate of the _Black Pearl_, had been defeated by Death.

"On land of all places," Jack muttered, and stalked out into the night.

_She looks like she's sleeping, _Jack thought, as he placed a linen coverlet over his wife's body. It was dawn; Jack had spent the night building a floating pyre, snarling wordlessly when Bootstrap had tried to help him. Branwen had wakened the children, and explained to them gently that Ruthie had passed. Both, of course, were upset. Will had wrapped a protective arm about Mari at the news, worrying about her first although his lower lip trembled like mad. They stood much like that now, between Branwen and Bill.

Jack pushed the pyre into the ocean, lighting it with a torch before it floated from shore. The pirate captain watched the flaming memorial with seeming impassiveness, but inside he was burning. Grief, rage, frustration, anger, all warred inside of him. He wanted to scream, to weep, to kill someone else and himself, all at once. It felt as if someone was tearing the heart from his body, but leaving him alive.

He had never felt like this before.

Jack blinked once, and a single tear coursed down his shadowed cheek. Rubbing it away impatiently, he stalked back up the beach, and knelt before his daughter. Mar regarded him with her intense little eyes. His eyes.

"Sparrows fly in flocks," he told her softly. "I wish ye to sail wi' mine. Would ye come with yer dad?"

Mari frowned a little, glanced left, right, and looked at Will. She frowned, looking at Jack again. Biting her bottom lip, she let go of Will's hand, stepped forward, and held her arms out to Jack.

Jack took the girl in his arms, feeling more tears spill down his cheeks.

He didn't bother to wipe them away.


	10. A Snake in the Nest

**Disclaimer:** I admit it! Mari is mine! _Sniff, sniff._ They grow up so fast...

**A/N:** I know, it's taking me forever to get these out. However, I'm trying to keep up in college, find a job, become formally published, and take care of my sick roommate. So, ta. But I still love you all.

_Poke. _

_Poke. Poke, poke._

_Poke._

Jack frowned in his sleep, grunting in annoyance as the tiny finger refused to leave off its ministrations. He attempted to back away from his assailant, but to no avail. A tiny finger inserted itself under his eyelid and peeled it away from his eye. The bloodshot orb struggled to focus, eventually settling on the whelp responsible for interrupting his sleep. Mari stood before his bed, a tiny finger in her mouth, with another firmly planted in his eyeball.

"I can't sleep," she whispered innocently. Jack opened the other eye and removed Mari's hand from his face. _So, that means I can't sleep, either_, he thought in annoyance. _She _is _just like her mother. _Sitting up groggily, he pulled back a section of blanket, tacit invitation to join him. Mari scrabbled up instantly; three months had not brought father and daughter much closer emotionally, but they knew one another better. Mari had come to trust this man, as Bill seemed to like him, and Bill was Will's da. So, Jack mustn't be all bad.

Jack gathered the child in the crook of one arm, settling back onto his pillow. Unintentionally, he began to drift back into slumber. Mari wouldn't have any of it.

"Jack!" she hissed. Jack jerked awake.

"Mm?" he grunted. Mari's eyes, glinting in the dark, regarded him with disconcerting intensity. _Yee gads, _Jack thought, _do _my _eyes to that to people?_ He grinned. _No wonder the ladies love me..._

"Hada bad dream," Mari said reproachfully. Jack raised an eyebrow. Apparently, he wasn't following the rubric for soothing childish nightmares.

"What was it about, pet?" Jack murmured sleepily. Satisfied, Mari snuggled up to him, talking around her finger.

"Ship sank, and I coul'n't swim," she confessed. Jack patted her arm gently.

"Ship's not gonna sink," he comforted. Mari frowned.

"How do you know?" she demanded. Jack rolled his eyes, and sighed.

"Because I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, savvy?"

"Cap-tin Jack Spahrow..." Mari mulled over these words for a few moments, nodded to herself, and lay down. Relieved, Jack followed suit and closed his eyes. He lay on the very brink of sleep, when suddenly...

"Jack?"

He suppressed a sigh. "Yes, my lass?"

"Will you teach me t' swim?"

Jack opened his eyes and frowned a little. Since Mari had boarded the ship, she had continually surprised him with little requests such as this. It was odd; Jack had never equated fatherhood with these sorts of things. In the back of his mind, he had always assumed that one simply stood back and let one's child grow. He was quickly learning this was not the case.

"'Course I will, pet. Soon's we reach someplace suitable. Now, sleep."

Obediently, Mari placed her head on the pillow, firmly beneath Jack's chin. Odd. He hadn't realized the comfort another human presence could bring until now. Even on the rare nights when the whelp stayed in the trundle bed at the foot of Jack's own cot, he slept better for hearing her breathe.

When that very breath he contemplated slipped into the even rhythm of slumber, Jack himself, finally, was allowed to close his eyes and rest until dawn.

Barbossa watched Mari play quietly near the wheel with distaste bordering on revulsion. The rest of the crew had taken to her right away, treating her almost like some sort of mascot, or pet. Before she had come aboard, Barbossa had nearly had every man aboard ready to sign a round robin. Now, not a'one of 'em was willing to betray Jack, and thus betray the little squib.

She was, Barbossa had to admit, no trouble, at least not at present. She was genius at entertaining herself without causing a ruckus, and her opinionated, witty young personality was undeniably endearing. It was clear she had inherited her father's imperturbable charm, along with his eyes.

But, Barbossa reflected, it would be no real problem if she took after her father. If, when she grew older, she began to reflect some of his more...foible attributes, it would make it that much easier to turn the crew round again. Besides, faces changed all the time on a pirate ship. Who was to say if some of those new faces might not like small children so much as the current crew?

Barbossa sneered as Bootstrap hoisted Mari into the air, she squealing with delight. Jack flicked an amused glance at the pair before turning his full attention back to his first love, his _Pearl_. _One would almost think Mari was Bootstrap's child_, Barbossa thought. Hmm...that could be useful later.

Released from Bootstraps arms, Mari ran down the length of the ship in a sudden flight of fancy. She stopped, tense, directly in front of Barbossa.

"How ye be doin' little lass?" Barbossa asked, as kindly as he could. Mari's little lips pressed together as she thought this over.

"I don't like you!" she blurted out, and continued her run. Barbossa watched her go with a scowl.

"Feelin's mutual, ill-begotten little squib."

**A/N:** I know, it's rather short. But (holds up finger) things will begin to move along a bit faster once the whole concept of "time-management" finally seeps into my brain. Meanwhile, review to encourage my speedy updates!


	11. Taking Communion

"This is a damn fool thing to do, Jack!" Bootstrap hissed.

Jack glared in the evening half-light. "Here's a thought- let's envision _me_ as the captain, and you as the first mate, savvy?"

They argued in hushed tones over Mari's sleeping form. The little girl lay in her trundle bed, thumb firmly in her mouth, her ivory whistle clutched under her chin.

"Jack," Bootstrap said, tone even, "Ruthie didn't tell ye about the lass so't you could drag both of 'em all o'er the seven seas! _Mari_ shouldn't even be here!"

"_Mari_ should be with her blood! And so should her sister!"

Mari stirred slightly; both men stilled until her breathing deepened.

Bootstrap settled himself in a chair. "Ruthie said the second babe was nearly stillborn, and sickly, which is _why_ she left her with the sisters. 'S really not the most clever thing t' be bringin' a sick child aboard, blood or no."

"Sea air'll do her good," Jack argued. "Hasn't done Mari a bit o' harm."

"Ruthie kept the girl a secret," Bootstrap reasoned. "It wasn't because she was in danger. It was because _you_ were. She knew ye'd blame yerself if somethin' happened t' the lass- otherwise, ye'd have known two were born that night."

Jack took a swig of rum and examined the bottle. "She's in them, Bill. Ruthie's in 'em, and if I have to go to hell and back, I'll have every scrap of her by me that I can gather. Savvy?"

Bootstrap shook his head. "Ye're a fool."

"She's _mine_, Bill!" Jack exclaimed. "And I'll have what's mine!"

Mari jerked from slumber with a cry, rubbing her eyes with a fist. Bill flicked an eyebrow at his captain; Jack ignored him.

"What's mine?" Mari asked, dark eyes round. "Why are ye shoutin'?"

"Yer da's a ruddy idiot," Bootstrap muttered.

Jack scowled, and set Mari on his knee. She looked up at him, startled. Jack rarely displayed affection.

"What's yours," Jack explained, "is a sister. She was born the same night as you, but she was sick, so yer mum sent her to a place where she could get better."

Mari toyed with one of Jack's rings. "Is she better now?"

Bill snorted softly. Jack's jaw clenched. "Aye," he said. "That's why we're goin' t' get her, soon's we can, savvy? Would you like that?"

Mari considered this, chewing on a fingernail. "Uh-huh. Can we go tomorrow?"

"We'll be there in less'n a week," Jack told her. "Want to see on the maps?"

"Yeah!"

Cradling her on his hip, Jack carried the girl into his stateroom, where the flare of a lamp could soon be seen. Bootstrap rose and stalked from the cabin, fuming. Clearly, he'd been dismissed.

St. Augustine's Abbey was set on a rocky knoll, about a mile inland from the English Channel. Surrounded by trees and wheat-thick fields, sun shone down on the rough little building in an eerily divine manner. A single, bronze bell, housed in a modest steeple, clanged the end of the morning and summoned the sisters and acolytes to ready for the noon meal and prayers. They sifted into the building, gathered in little troupes of black and white, many sending disapproving (or simply confused ) glances at the trio sifting in with them. And, indeed, two grown men dressed like vagabonds each holding a hand of the tiny vagabond between them _would _have been an odd sight, here.

Within, children, ranging from toddlers to young adolescents, aided the sisters, running here and there, setting tables and readying the inner sanctum for communion. It was to the sanctum that the vagabond trio headed. Here, a middle-aged nun tersely directed novices in their duties. Jack approached her, unabashed, leaving Mari in Bootstrap's care.

"Mother Superior?"

The woman turned, quirked an eyebrow at her enquirer, took in his companions, and frowned a little. "You've come for confession?" The unsaid _I hope_ hung in the air.

Jack smiled. "Afraid not— I've forgotten my list, you see, and can't remember them all without it."

The Mother Superior showed no signs of mirth. Jack cleared his throat. "I would like to see my daughter, if you please."

The woman gestured at Mari. "It appears she's right behind you, sir."

Jack refused to be baited. "No, no, the _other_ one. You see, I've two. Her last name would be Sparrow."

The Mother Superior's mouth quirked. "Only two, Captain Sparrow? That's surprising- the stories say you take to heart God's command to 'go into the world and be fruitful'."

Jack's eyes darkened. "My daughter, madam."

By now, more than a dozen small faces were pressed against the sanctum's windows. A glare and a sharp clap from the Mother Superior sent them running.

"She's in a better place," the woman said firmly.

"What place, precisely, do you mean, milady," Jack asked in a low, dangerous voice. Boostrap picked Mari up, ready to rush her from the room.

The Mother Superior crossed her arms. "I mean, Captain Sparrow, that she is with God."

Outside, several dozen playing children froze as a collection plate flew through a window, spraying rainbow shards of glass over the yard. They watched mesmerized as it sailed gracefully to the ground and stopped with a few lazy spins.

A little girl- no more than three- ran up to the plate and picked it up, dark eyes lighting with delight.

"Jason!" she cried, "I have a new game!"

"Where's my sister?"

Bootstrap swallowed, sliding Mari into bed. Night settled around the freshly-sailing _Pearl_, leaving only lamps and the moon to cast close pools of light.

"Wasn't she there?" Mari persisted.

"No, lass," Bootstrap said. Where the hell was Jack?

"Then where is she?"

The man rubbed his face with his hands. _Damn ye, Sparrow_. "She's- she's in heaven. Wi' yer mum."

Mari scowled. "How come _she_ gets t' be with Mum?"

Drawing the covers over her, Bootstrap shrugged. "'T'wouldn't be fair for one of 'em t' have ye both."

"Will she ever come back?"

"No, lass. I don't expect she will."

Finally prying himself away from Mari's questions, the _Pearl's_ first mate walked into the cool darkness, on the hunt for its captain. He found him, sitting against the rail near the bow, sucking on a bottle of wine.

"Is that the sacramental wine from the abbey?" Boostrap demanded.

Jack took another drink. "I'm havin' communion, mate," he slurred, and crossed himself.

"Wrong direction." Bootstrap settled beside him, accepting the proffered bottle. "It's left to right."

"So you're an alter boy now?"

"Used to be." Bootstrap took a drink. "I'm sorry."

Jack took back the bottle, drank for a long moment. "So'm I mate. So'm I."


	12. Currency and A Swimming Lesson

"Bootstrap! Bootstrap, look what I found!" Mari dashed across the beach, nearly upsetting Barbossa where he stood next to the plank that stretched down from the ship. He glared until Raggetti shouted for assistance, and tossed him a goat.

After a month of particularly good plundering, Jack had decided to make shore leave on an island rife with free supplies and native women. The crew worked eagerly to settle themselves on the beach— docking at a desert island meant the merest wisp of a skeleton crew for watches, and more time to do as they pleased.

"You just want to see _her_," Bootstrap poked. He and Jack supervised setting camp.

Jack shrugged. "Can't blame a man for wantin' t know his future."

Bootstrap snorted. "And her idea of currency isn't entirely unpleasant."

Jack grinned shinily, his comment swallowed as Mari ran up with her treasure. She wrapped an arm around Bootstrap's leg and held up the object. Always Bootstrap first, Jack thought, and wished for rum.

"What've ye got, lass?" Bill asked, and burst out laughing. Somehow, the lass had managed to capture a fiddler crab without being pinched. It wriggled in her grip, the larger claw waving like an angry man's fist.

"How'd ye manage that, darling?" Jack asked. Mari pressed her face against Bootstrap's leg.

"Snuck up on 'im. Real quiet." Never mind that crustaceans don't have ears.

"Sly one, you are," Jack congratulated. "What's say we follow through on our arrangement for a swimming lesson? There's a lovely lagoon just round the bend."

Mari dropped the crab; it scuttled off with a resentful snap. "Can Bootstrap come?"

"I've got to help finish camp, love," Bootstrap told her. "You and yer da' go on. It'll be fun."

Jack rose and held out his hand. After a moment, Mari put hers into it, and the two trekked down the beach with identical swaggers.

"That's my lass! Paddle now, I've got you."

Jack stood waist-deep in the water, he and Mari stripped to their skivvies and wet head to toe. The first attempt at a swimming lesson had quickly dissolved into a splashing match that ended when Mari nearly slipped under. Then, Jack had decided to get down to business.

He balanced Mari by her stomach on one of his hands while she attempted to doggy-paddle. Her face showed hard determination, an expression inherited from Ruthie. Would the other girl have had that look too? Jack suddenly wondered. Or would she have shared his mannerisms?

"Captain!"

Startled, Jack pulled Mari upright onto his hip. Robert, the new navigator, stood on shore, one hip canted out as his eyes roved Jack's bare torso. Jack fought the urge to throw coral at the boy. He had nothing against men that were attracted to other men, but Robert's constant – and painfully obvious— flirting made him edgy. Especially when Bootstrap revealed that Robert believed Jack was playing hard to get.

"What is it?" Jack snapped. _I have a _daughter_, for God's sake_.

"Bill sends to say that he's unavailable as nanny today." Robert smiled. "But _I'm_ available for whatever you need."

Jack closed his eyes. "Since we're a-land, lad, I can navigate just as well on my own, savvy?"

Robert showed signs of pouting. Jack ground his teeth.

"That was a dismissal."

Turning on his heel, Robert disappeared into the trees.

"You don't like him," Mari said.

"Not in the manner he would like me to, no," Jack answered, shuddering. "Now, my lass, how would you like to see a real, live witch?"

"Yeah!" Mari clapped, eyes bright.

Since Bootstrap refused to watch Mari, Jack would have to take her to see Tia Dalma. He knew Bootstrap meant for Jack not to go at all— or at least not to exchange "currency" while he was there— but the first mate was probably also aware that Jack would do as he pleased. Which was why he sent Robert. No one would lament his loss if Jack decided to get angry.

It'd always been this way, Jack reflected as he and Mari stretched out in the sun to dry. Ever since they'd gained the _Pearl_ together, Bootstrap had taken the role of older brother, watching Jack's back, even as Jack watched his. He'd already been married and gotten Branwen with child before he and Jack met. The piracy came with the loss of that first child, and continued to support his tiny family when little Will was born. His pragmatism tempered Jack's lust for freedom and adventure, just as Jack forced Bootstrap to boldness.

Jack turned on his side, smiled at Mari who'd curled to sleep in the sand. The smile faded.

Still none of that explained why she always went to Bootstrap first.

"Jack! There's _people!_" Mari tugged on the sleeve of Jack's greatcoat, pointing at the dark faces peering at them from the mist between trees.

"Aye, my lass. They'll tell her we're here." Jack winked at his daughter and continued to row. A long stretch of grey marsh spread through cypress trees and cattails, the surface smooth save for where the boat passed. Soon ahead a shanty came into sight, propped up on criss-crossed stilts and glowing from within. Jack docked the boat at the base of some shallow stairs and held it steady while Mari scrambled out.

Tia Dalma greeted them at the door, grinning with a mouthful of black and silver teeth, light throwing her hair into a ghastly silhouette.

"Jack Spharow!" she crooned. "'Tis good to have ye back once more." Her gaze shifted to Mari. "And this one…oh, there's a taste o' somethin' special about you, girl."

"You can _taste_ me?" Mari asked.

Tia laughed and ushered them into the shanty. "Aye girl, I taste and hear and see and touch many things that others cannot."

"What do you taste, exactly?" Jack asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That is for her to know," Tia scolded. "But you…you have another question for me, I be thinkin'."

"Jack, that jar has eyeballs in it!" Mari hissed.

"You just put dem tiny hands o' yours on anyting ye want," Tia offered. "Never to early to be learnin'."

Jack eyed Mari – now enthusiastically shaking a shaman's rattle— and turned to Tia, frowning.

"She needs to learn these things?"

Tia leaned back in her chair, grinning. "What be your question, Jack Spharow?"

Jack plucked a trinket from the table top, turning it in his fingers. "Would it be possible— can you contact the dead?"

"Ahhhh, so the great captain pines for his lost love." Annoyance flittered across Tia's face.

"In a manner of speaking," Jack said. "I'd like to speak to my other daughter."

Tia frowned. "Ye have no dead daughters."

A crash made them both start and turn, only to find Mari standing over shards of broken glass and a monkey fetus. She made a face.

"Ew."

Jack made a similar face and turned back to Tia. "Of course I do. Mari's twin sister."

Tia shrugged. "If she is, she does not want to speak wit you." She lowered her eyelids a hair. "But I still demand pehyament."

Jack cast a glance at Mari, who'd found a scrap of parchment and a stub of a pencil and was scribbling happily away. He rose and led Tia Dalma upstairs.


	13. To Catch a Very Small Thief

The moon rose high over the marshes, pale light drifting with mist through the open window. Jack sat on the edge of the bed to yank on a boot, while Tia slipped on a light chemise. There was no cuddling, no after-love nap. Both craved independence too much for such possessive behavior, and Mari was still downstairs, besides. But this night, Tia glided to him, propping her fingers beneath his chin and tilting it up until he met her eyes.

"What ails ye, Jack?" she asked. "There's a sickness of heart about ye I've not seen before."

Jack shrugged, twisting the wedding ring he still wore. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow," he whispered, "and two of them are gone."

Tia ran her knuckles down his cheek. "I'd once heard ye say that Sparrows flock together. And still they do."

Jack followed her gaze to the empty air next to them. Did Ruthie's specter occupy that place? A smile flickered across his lips. _Nay, or I'd be without my balls._ But then, what did Tia see? The other child? If so, she'd quite an education, now.

"I suppose there's no use in asking for clarity?" he asked.

Tia only smiled and sauntered back downstairs. Jack followed, finding Mari stilling scribbling happily away. She'd found a tin of colored chalks, somewhere, along with a respectable pile of toffees. Chewing, she drew red chalk over parchment, another object clutched in her other fist.

"Come, my lass," Jack said, "back t' camp wi' ye."

Obediently, Mari slipped from her stool and went to her father, hiding her purloined treasure with an arm.

"I believe ye've got something o' mine," Tia said, raising an eyebrow.

Scowling, Mari allowed Jack to see the object. It was a small, slightly battered compass, set in a wooden case.

Jack sighed. "Lass, ye know better. If ye're goin' to steal something, ye should be able to easily hide it." He opened the compass, and frowned. The needle bobbed crazily between northwest and northeast, never settling due north. "And we've compasses aplenty that _work_. Ye can have one o' those."

Mari clutched her treasure. "Mine!"

Tia folded her arms. "I give no-ting away for free."

Holding the compass to her chest, Mari dropped her sheaf of drawings on the floor, rifled through them, and thrust one at the witch. Jack peered at the picture and winced. It was a rough depiction of a pirate with wild, bristling hair and a red bandanna, holding a bottle. Tia took the picture, grinning.

"The pehyment is fair."

Jack gave her a pained look. "Ye wouldn't rather have gold?"

"Der's gold aplenty in the world," Tia said dismissively. "And it's a respectable likeness."

Again, Jack winced, and took Mari back to camp.

"Why would she want a compass that doesn't work?" Bootstrap mused. He and Jack sat next to one of many fires that dotted the beach. They played a complicated game of their own invention that involved cards, dice, and chess pieces.

Jack shook his head. "I though I'd lose a finger if I made her leave it."

"And Tia just traded it to her for a godawful drawing?" Bootstrap smiled at the mound of blankets that covered the little girl. The compass had joined her ivory whistle in the realm of sacred possessions.

Jack took a sip of rum, threw the dice and moved his queen. "'S not as if it's worth much than that. Holding check."

A low whistle pierced through the dark. Robert's slight form, lit by bonfires, passed within feet of them, his eyes flashing in the half light.

"Captain." The word cut, lascivious, across their conversation.

Jack growled low in his throat, shoulders hunched. "And _you_," he hissed at Bootstrap, "may stop encouraging the boy at any time."

Bootstrap snorted. "And quash his spirit? Jack, that would be cruel."

"So's a slow and painful death."

Bootstrap threw his dice and turned a card, shaking with laughter.

Barbossa took a pull at his flask. He shouldn't be drinking on watch, but at present didn't care much. He'd been _that close_ to mutiny, and lost it with a single Spanish merchant vessel. Most everyone had been ripe to pass a round robin, and next moment they were swimming in pesos and chocolate. Now, not a one of them would so much as speak a word against ol' Captain Jack.

And then there was the brat. She was _everywhere_, the bloody sneak, watching him with those deep and eerie eyes. He felt strange with her about, as if she could see into his very skin. She'd have to go, certainly.

Barbossa sipped some more whiskey, fingered an apple hidden in his pocket. He could be patient. Yes, he could wait for the opportune moment, and in the meantime, dissolve any doubts the great Captain Sparrow might have about his loyalties.

After all, which would a grown man believe? Another seasoned sailor, or the intuitions of a child at the dawn of life? Barbossa snorted, and bit into his apple, staring at the sky.


End file.
